


Mourning the Fallen

by aislingdoheanta



Series: Intimate Conversations [11]
Category: Spartacus Series (TV), Spartacus: War of the Damned
Genre: Canon Era Fic, Episode 3.09 fic, Episode: The Dead and the Dying, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-07
Updated: 2013-04-07
Packaged: 2017-12-07 17:48:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/751299
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aislingdoheanta/pseuds/aislingdoheanta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Major Character death includes mentions of deaths that occurred within WOD Episode 9, The Dead and the Dying.</p><p>
  <i>“It's difficult to grieve those we are close to. But he went out in battle, a glorious end that Agron would have wanted. Take comfort in that.” </i>
</p><p>
  <i>Nasir could only nod for Gannicus was correct. It was the end Agron would have always wanted, dying in battle after taking as many Romans as he was able with him to the afterlife. It just wasn't the way Nasir would have liked it to be. He would have preferred Agron dying beside him so they would be together one last time. </i>
</p><p>Nasir is in mourning over learning of Agron's fate. This is how he copes with it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mourning the Fallen

**Author's Note:**

> This is something that would not leave my mind after the past episode of Spartacus. The fact that Nasir is so quiet with his grief, until it is his battle scene, was powerful, but I wanted to explore it more in an attempt to understand why he acted the way he did. This is what came out of that.

Nasir had been debating whether to ask. He knew Naevia was grieving her loss of Crixus, but he had someone who could tell him of Agron's fate, someone who could ease his mind and give him final word on whether he should hope for Agron's return. 

He hadn't dared before. Not because he didn't believe in Agron's skill in battle, but because it was easier to believe that Agron would never return to him than to spend every day hoping for a reunion that might never come to pass. He didn't want to hear that his gladiator was dead, but he couldn't handle the not knowing any longer. 

He quietly entered her tent, listening to her retell Crixus's death. He heard Gannicus quietly say, “Fucking boy,” and it held all the quiet rage that was terrifying when it came to the gladiators. 

Then he took a breath. “What of Agron? Does he share fate with Crixus, or is he yet of this world?” He hoped his voice sounded stronger than he felt. 

He looked between Spartacus and Naevia before settling his eyes on the former. He watched her face break into grief and felt his heart shatter. It was worse hearing that he would never see Agron again, than simply trying to force himself to believe it.

He looked to the ground, feeling his eyes burn, before looking back up at the people before him and steeling his jaw. He did not want to fall apart, not in front of anyone.

So he turned and walked out of the tent, feeling numb. His foot caught and he stumbled as he looked from left to right, unsure where to go. _Agron's dead._

He walked in a daze along the well-worn paths between the tents, attempting to find his way through the crowd of people. _Agron's dead._

Nasir wanted...needed _something._ But he could not think clearly, could not see clearly. He prayed that he was nearing his tent. It was too much for him to take, hearing the people shouting questions to him, not having answers for them, not caring enough to give them answers because his gladiator was never to return. _Agron's dead._

He felt someone grasp his shoulder and lashed out, twisting his body and throwing out his fist. He felt himself cry out but could not see anything other than the red blinding his gaze. 

_Agron's dead._

He felt strong arms wrap around him from behind that attempted to drag him away from all the people. Lugo's voice said in his ear, “Enough.” 

Nasir struggled against him, needing to lash out because anger was all he had left. _Agron's dead._ “Unhand me!” 

“It is not Castus that angers. Nor I that angers,” Lugo said, uncharacteristically quiet. He continued to hold fast to Nasir, though Nasir continued to struggle. 

_Agron's dead._ It was the only thing Nasir could think about through the roaring sound of his own blood, his own fury, in his ears. _Agron's dead._

“Come,” Lugo commanded, still quiet, as he half-dragged and half-carried Nasir away from the crowd of people. It was a tribute of respect the man held for Nasir that he spoke so softly to him, in quiet conference. 

_Agron's dead._

Lugo delivered him to Nasir's own tent, with a clasp on his shoulder and a sad smile, something that Nasir thought looked out of place on the loud, insolent man's face. 

Suddenly alone, his thoughts whirling, all he could feel is anger. Anger that Agron left him. Anger that the gods _took_ Agron from him. Anger that Agron wasn't there to relieve the pain of having to live on without his heart. _Agron's dead._

Before Nasir knew it, he had overturned the small table in his tent. He threw whatever he could grab at, hissing, shouting, crying as he thought of his Agron no longer walking among the living. 

He very quickly ran out of things to throw, out of anger, so he just sat down on the cot, trying to steady his breathing. _Agron's dead._ He rubbed a hand over his face, through his hair. How could that foolish man had thought that Nasir would be able to live without him? How was he meant to continue on when he no longer wished for the freedom they all fought for so readily? What purpose would it serve him now? He had no family or ties to anyone other than through this war. 

Nasir let his hand fall as his eyes stared blankly before him. He could not think of anything, could not focus on anything at all. _Agron's dead._

He felt his eyes burn and hastily wiped at his eyes for tears and useless pity would do no help. It would neither bring his gladiator back nor help with what needed to be done. He was supposed to help Spartacus, help with the rebellion. It was what Agron had wished of him. _Agron's dead._

Nasir's hearing came back to him and soon his little tent, though now it seems impossibly large and empty, was filled with the sounds of life and people. He took a breath and stood up, steeling himself for the day to come. 

He would not wallow in sorrow and sadness for there was much to be done. 

*******************

Nasir started on his rounds through the camp to check on those new to this life, as he often did. It was one of the tasks Spartacus set him out on ever since leaving the temple. He believed Nasir's quiet demeanor would be a comfort to those who were not yet used to this way of life. Spartacus had also confided in him that he trusted Nasir to follow his wishes or speak his mind or concerns to him directly, something Spartacus had thought he learned from Agron's influence. Nasir would never make a public display of disagreeing with their leader, nor had he ever truly felt disagreement with the man's actions. Only when he was forced to remain behind instead of at Agron's side in battle. 

_Agron's dead._

Soon he found himself upon the training area and watched as Lugo and Saxa were training and sparing with others. He watched for a moment, aware of a few pairs of eyes on him, as they already knew of Agron's fate. _Agron's dead._

He did long for his own sword, the one he had used many times before in training. One that had been chosen by Agron for him. It was back when he was still relatively new to this life, still while at the villa. It had been the day after Nasir told them, told Agron, the name he used to go by, the name that was his now. Spartacus had once again taken him for training and Agron had stood nearby, conversing with Crixus, but Nasir had felt both of their eyes on him. 

After a while, Spartacus told him to break for water and rest. Nasir still remembered the way Spartacus had come back to see him train again and Agron had crossed to him, tossed him a sword and shield, and said to him that he hoped the little man would show progress. 

Nasir shook his head, freeing himself from memory. He would not go down that path, he _could not_ go down that path. _Agron's dead._

He grabbed the nearest sword and walked into the training ground, his face set and a hiss upon his lips. He locked eyes with Lugo who nodded. 

“Who feels he can take little man?” Lugo shouted and pushing the man he had been sparring with toward Nasir.

Nasir quickly lost himself in the act of defending himself, attacking his opponent. His thoughts were of nothing except the way his arm should shield, the angle his should attack, and who his next challenger would be. 

Time passed through a haze of those who stood to challenge him until Gannicus interrupted, calling for Nasir's attention. Nasir's only thought was of keeping his attention on the matter at hand, the fighting and the clash of sword.

Nasir went to him, clenching his jaw and longing for his spear, something to steady him. He was passed a cup of wine, Gannicus's way of dealing with sadness, victory, and every other feeling that could pass though. 

“Agron will be missed,” he said suddenly. 

Nasir looked at him, then back at his cup of wine he had yet to drink from. _My cup is spoken for._

It was strange and unusual to see Gannicus acting so unlike himself. He knew that it was only because none here really knew him outside the realms of battle. It was Agron who knew him best. _Agron's dead._

“He was a great warrior.” Nasir said softly, looking back out across those still training. His throat felt tight, but he refused to do much more than gaze across those before him. 

“A gladiator,” Gannicus said with a smile and a drink. “More than just simple warrior.” 

Nasir nodded and swallowed. _Agron's dead._ He looked back down to the cup in his hand. 

They stood in silence for moments until Nasir could no longer take it. _Agron's dead._ He knew that Gannicus was trying to determine his state of grief, but Nasir had already shown too much in grief in public only that morning, in Naevia's tent. 

“Apologies. I must attend guard.” He passed his cup back to Gannicus, smiling slightly when the Celt drank it all in one go. 

“Of course.” Gannicus tilted his head at Nasir before grasping his arm to keep him from leaving. “It's difficult to grieve those we are close to. But he went out in battle, a glorious end that Agron would have wanted. Take comfort in that.” 

Nasir could only nod for Gannicus was correct. It was the end Agron would have always wanted, dying in battle after taking as many Romans as he was able with him to the afterlife. It just wasn't the way Nasir would have liked it to be. He would have preferred Agron dying beside him so they would be together one last time. 

_Agron's dead._

Nasir walked from all those there and went to the front of the camp to take watch. He reveled in the simple task of focusing all his attentions in watching for the slightest movement. It was a welcome relief. 

Eventually, Lugo came to relieve him of watch, patting his shoulder and grunting. Nasir took his leave quietly and made his way back to his tent. 

He had forgotten the state he had left it in. His few possessions scattered around. No, not all _his_ possessions; some were Agron's. Though in this life, possessions were few and far between with constant travel. 

Nasir removed his armor and set his spear in the corner. In the privacy of his tent, away from prying eyes, he was free to mourn and grieve his loss. He began searching for the long cloak Agron had left behind, claiming those from East of the Rhine would not need it. 

He carried it with him to the cot, covering himself with it though it was not cold enough to warrant it. Before his head laid down, tears sprung from his eyes. His anger had disappeared and was replaced by an unbearable sadness that weighed his heart and made his chest feel heavy, making him unable to breathe. 

Yet he made no sound apart from his occasion gasp of breath so none passing by would know of the anguish taking place inside this tent. He would allow himself this one night to grieve, to mourn in this way, but no more. This would do nothing to honor Agron's memory, nor was it the proper way for a warrior to mourn and honor those who had fallen. Nasir was a warrior. _One that I am most proud of._

Nasir would remain the man, the warrior that Agron would have wanted him to be. He would live the rest of his days to honor Agron's memory, to not allow him to be forgotten. 

_Honor, not with tears, but blood._

**Author's Note:**

> After re-watching the entirety of Spartacus, especially Vengeance and War of the Damned, there's so many things I wish we would have seen, so I may be posting some of those fics as well. Mostly they will be Agron and Nasir or other conversations and things I believe to have happened between the characters. There's just so much alluded to between them, like all the conversations they apparently had in the beginning which is what caused their relationship to develop the way it did, that we do not see. Which naturally means that I have to write them to get them out of my head. 
> 
> Also, the last line is a reference to what Crixus says to Oenomaus after Varro's death and they are watching Spartacus grieve back in Blood and Sand.


End file.
